


Captive King

by Lady_Juno



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Always-a-lady!Bilbo, Attempted Kidnapping, Crack, F/M, Female Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield, Fluff and Crack, Hobbits fail at kidnapping, and tying knots, fem!Bilbo, girl!Bilbo, so much crack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-29
Updated: 2015-01-26
Packaged: 2018-02-19 07:37:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 6,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2380208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Juno/pseuds/Lady_Juno
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bilba Baggins is in a pickle.</p><p>It had seemed like such a good idea at the time. Now she wonders if she might not be going completely mad. She just kidnapped the King Under the Mountain. Now what's she supposed to do with him?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Taken

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ISeeFire](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ISeeFire/gifts).



> Inspired by a prompt provided by ISeeFire.
> 
> "I have this bizarre idea where she knocked Thorin out and tied him up in her basement and let everyone THINK he was dead. So they're all out there getting on with their lives and she's got the King under the Mountain locked up in the basement. And about three seconds after she did it she realized it was SUCH a bad idea but she doesn't know how to UNDO it and he's figuring he deserves it for how he treated her AND he's actually sorta amused by how inept she is at it AND he could escape any time he wanted (because she's so bad at this whole captivity thing) but he doesn't because, again, he thinks he deserves it and he's not REALLY a prisoner because he pretty much comes and goes as he pleases and so they mostly spend their time snarking at each other."
> 
> Then I took the prompt and kinda went sideways with it. o.o

"Oh, spirits. What have I done?" Bilba stared down at the horribly still form of the dwarf, and felt that trickle of fear in her chest turn into a torrent. The blood from his head wound was seeping sluggishly through his hair. What was she going to do? They were close enough to Erebor, she could take him back--and what would they say? What would _she_ say?

_"No, he's alright. He just fell on a stick of firewood, knocked himself out and tied himself up. And that's how I found him."_

Brilliant. No one would ever see through that.

Bilba twisted the frayed end of the rope around her hands anxiously and moaned softly to herself. It had seemed like such a _good_ idea at the time. She thought she could punish him for his cruel words, for banishing her, for being an idiot. But now that she had him at her mercy, she realized exactly how phenomenally imbecilic the whole plan was.

He was the King Under the bloody Mountain! _Someone_ would come looking for him. A whole army, likely. And then how would she ever be able to explain that she was innocent?

_"No, you don't understand. It was all for his own good. Nevermind that he's bleeding and tied up, I swear, I was only trying to help."_

Yeah. That would go over well.

Still, she couldn't just stand here and do nothing. He would remember who had bludgeoned him, if nothing else, and if she left him here for someone else to find-

A frightening thought struck her. What if he hadn't come alone, as she thought? Bilba spent the next several minutes peering out into the darkness before realizing that if Thorin hadn't been alone, then his companions would have stopped her tying him up, or hitting him in the first place. That was both a relief and slightly insulting.

"Thought you didn't need help to handle one little hobbit?" she asked snidely. The unconscious dwarf didn't answer. Rude.

It took the better part of an hour to heave the dwarf's limp body into her cart, then another to finish her meal and break camp. No one could know they'd been here. She had to find a place where she could hide, where she could keep a prisoner. A cave, maybe.

Bilba looked up into the hills that surrounded them. Everything was rocky out here. Not absolutely everything, of course, otherwise she wouldn't have come out here looking for herbs, but there were certainly no grassy fields. Her mind was running in frantic circles. She needed to focus, needed to concentrate.

"Come on," she muttered, hitching her pony to the cart. "We need to keep moving. Sorry, boy. I wish I could let you rest." The beast pulled the cart without complaint, though, and she wondered, not for the last time, if she'd gone completely mad.


	2. Waking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin isn't entirely sure what's going on, but he probably deserves it, whatever it is.

At first, Thorin wondered who was playing war drums. Thoom. Thoom. Thoom. Thoom. It was relentless, rhythmic, painful. At length, it dawned on him that the sound was that of his own heartbeat, and that was why his head throbbed with each beat. A quick mental inventory told him that his head was the only thing that hurt, however. Whoever had knocked him out had done it intentionally.

Then he remembered. Bilba. A new sort of admiration for the hobbit awoke in him. He had expected her to be angry, but to attack an armed and armored Dwarf with nothing but a stick was nothing if not stupidly brave. If she'd failed in her attempt to knock him senseless, she almost certainly would have been hurt. His reflexes wouldn't have allowed any other outcome.

She had a powerful swing.

Slowly, Thorin opened his eyes. It made little difference right off, but after a moment, he could make out the outline of the tiny female, slumped against the wall. She had a naked blade across her knees, but from her muffled snoring it was clear she was fast asleep.

What was she thinking? Did she really intend to keep him prisoner like that? Thorin sat up cautiously and tested his bonds. The knots were well-tied, but the rope was slack around his wrists, and if he worked at it for more than thirty seconds, he'd be free.

_But do I deserve to be free?_ The thought was a painful one. After all he'd done, after all he'd said, did he really have any right to escape? After all, she'd not only saved his life on more than one occasion, she'd bested him in single combat.

A combination of shame for himself and respect for Bilba rose in his chest. _I did not choose to follow a weak woman. She is strong, even if she's not a warrior._


	3. Tying Knots

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Bilba and Thorin are awake at the same time, and the snarking can commence. If Thorin can get over his "I deserve this" phase and Bilba can say more than "shut up."

Morning light filtered through the cave's entrance. This far back, the shadows were deep, but it was easier to see now, at least. Bilba was troubled to find that at some point in the night, Thorin had sat up, propping himself against the opposite wall, and she hadn't heard it. Grumbling to herself and trying to work the kinks out of her back and neck, the hobbit stood and sheathed her sword.

"Did you sleep well?

Bilba jumped nearly out of her skin. She’d thought he was unconscious. Or at least asleep. Really, it had been a foolish assumption. Thorin had always woken up at the barest hint of someone thinking about making a sound. Still, the fear from the previous night had passed, and now that it was getting light again, she could find little more than irritation for him in her heart.

“No, thank you very much.” The accusation in her tone could hardly be directed at anyone else. Thorin watched her calmly, not even bothering to look uncomfortable. Jerk. Grumbling to herself, she turned to go, intending to check on her pony and put together something like breakfast.

“Aren’t you going to check my bonds?” Thorin’s voice was nearly serene. As the hobbit turned to face him, she felt a spark of anger work its way under the simmering frustration already heaped against him.

“No. I’m going to get breakfast.”

“You should check my bonds.”

“Don’t you tell me what to do!” Bilba remembered his bullying, his orders, his superiority. He was bigger and stronger and older and more experience and he was the King, therefore nothing he said could _possibly_ be wrong! “I’ll do as I like, and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

Thorin made a helpless gesture and shrugged. “As you say.” It was only then that Bilba realized, to her chagrin, that his hands had lain folded in his lap during the entirety of this conversation, not tied behind his back where she’d left them. She felt her face heat up, and hoped the shadows of the cave would hide it.

“Shut up. I was getting there.” Grumbling wordlessly to herself, she knelt behind him and wound the rope around his wrists.

“It’s too loose.”

“I told you to shut up.”

“I’ll just get out again.”

“I won’t have you complaining about how raw your wrists are.” The moment the retort left her lips, she wished she’d said nothing at all. He turned his head and looked at her, one eyebrow lifted as though giving her an opportunity to take back the implied insult. Well, she wouldn’t! He deserved every insult he got. “Shut up.”

“As you say,” he murmured. She finished tying the rope and stood, stomping out toward the cart in high dudgeon. Not two minutes later, she heard boots behind her. Bilba turned, whipping Sting out of its sheath and angling it at Thorin’s chest. He stopped well out of range, his hands lifted innocently, once more unbound.

She advanced on him until the point of Sting rested against the scales of his brigandine. Thorin sighed, and she could see amusement in his gaze now. It infuriated her.

“Back inside!” she growled, with as much savagery as she could muster. The dwarf, rather than doing as she said, redirected her sword to his throat, adjusted her grip, and nudged her feet with his toe until she had settled into a more appropriate stance.

“Don’t threaten the armor,” he told her cooly. “The places where there isn’t armor are much more vulnerable.”

“I said, get back inside!” Sting’s point pricked the tender flesh above his collar bone. Thorin withdrew slightly, his expression losing the hints of levity that had so enraged her. Wordlessly, he turned and did as he was bid. Bilba grabbed her spare rope and followed him. This time, she tied his wrists as tightly as she could manage. He didn’t struggle, even as she bound his ankles together.

“If you try to run, I’ll make sure you regret it.” Bilba wasn’t at all sure that was a threat she could follow up on, but Thorin seemed to buy it. He looked up at her with a slightly mournful expression.

“I’m sure you wouldn’t need to.”


	4. Addition and Subtraction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Mostly Addition)
> 
> In which Dwalin demonstrates his remarkable ability to tie knots behind his back, around his own wrists.

“Miss Baggins?”

A familiar voice sent chills racing down Bilba’s spine. She turned her head, knowing without a doubt who was standing there, but feeling compelled to look anyway. Dwalin had an ax on his shoulder and a slightly bewildered expression on his grim face, which just made him look like he was going to punch something for not making sense.

“Dwalin. What are you doing here?” She hoped that, on some level, Dwalin didn’t hear or couldn’t interpret or blindly overlooked the nervousness in her voice. Of all the members of the Company she _didn’t_  want to find this cave, Dwalin was at the top of the list. Maybe tied for first place with Balin, if only because the older dwarf’s disappointment would be as pleasant as a knife to the gut.

“Border patrol.” Dwalin’s gaze flicked over the cart, the pony, the halfling, the cave. He seemed to see it all at once, as always, scrutinizing everything for potential threats. Billa wanted to crawl under her cart and stay there until he went away, but that wasn’t an option. Now Dwalin was staring hard into the cave, and though Bilba didn’t dare look over her shoulder, she prayed Thorin was staying out of sight.

“And have you found anything in the area I should know about? No Orcs, I hope.” That thought was enough to distract Dwalin for a moment, and his eyes slid back to her face.

“No Orcs. A pack of wargs to the east, but that’s all we’ve found. Feral ones, it looks like. From the Battle.”

Bilba didn’t like the sound of that. While the warrior looked almost entirely unbothered, she knew that a pack of wargs would tear her apart before she could even call for help. Not that she would, since there wasn’t anyone to come rescue her. Certainly Thorin wouldn’t. Why would he, after all? She’d abducted him.

“What are ye doin’ out here, lass? I thought ye didn’t want te come back.” Dwalin was moving toward her with the unsubtle, stomping gait he always used, no matter how casual he was trying to be. Bilba took a step back, putting a hand on her pony’s warm, hairy back. It occurred to her, somewhat humorously, what Dwalin might say if he knew she’d named the animal after their musically-inclined companion.

“I’m not. I don’t. I won’t. Don’t be confusing. I just came out here to gather some herbs.”

“Long way te go for herbs. Ye hidin’ somethin’ in here, lass?” He was moving past her now, toward the cave. Bilba risked a fleeting glance into the shadows, but didn’t see Thorin as clearly as Dwalin could. She didn’t see the king standing near the wall, shaking his head, making swift, sharp gestures. Even if she had seen it, she wouldn’t have understood it. The Dwarves had never taught her Iglishmêk.

“No. I mean…” Bilba scrambled to think of a way out of this. The idea that came to her wasn’t a welcome one. One dwarf was bad enough. Could she handle two? On the other hand, could she afford to let Dwalin go back and tell everyone that there was a hobbit hanging around the borders? What if more came? “You can… look around if you want. There might be something back there. I haven’t really looked yet.” If Dwalin heard the telltale hesitation, he didn’t give any sign. If he heard her pick up a hefty stick of firewood, he didn’t turn. As stealthily as she could, she followed him into the mouth of the cave and, taking a deep breath, she clocked him over the head with every ounce of strength she could muster.

For a moment, it seemed like the blow had had no effect on him at all. He just stood there, still as stone. Then he swayed and crumpled, blood seeping along the scratches she’d put across the bald dome of his head.

Even as Bilba used Bofur’s harness to tie Dwalin’s thick, calloused hands behind his back, silently apologizing to the pony for her misuse of his tack, she mentally kicked herself. There had been a certain amount of forgivability in the first instance. She had been angry. Beyond reason. Following through had just been a safety measure. This… this was just stupid. And she knew it.

_I’ll get them to swear to leave me alone, and then I’ll let them both go. Or maybe I’ll just leave them here. I mean, if Thorin’s so good at getting out..._

She trailed off in mid-thought and looked up, scanning the shadows. She spotted the dwarf, half-concealed in the deepest shadows from which he could still see the entrance. How long had he been there? Had Dwalin seen him?

“Thorin!” She stood up, completely forgetting the knot she’d been in the process of tying. “Get back inside, or so help me, I’ll knock you out again.”

The amused smile that flickered across his unfairly handsome features was nothing if not infuriating. And this, thought a distant, disconnected part of her mind, was why Thorin was still her prisoner, rather than her traveling companion. Because he had to be so smug, so superior.

“He’s too heavy for you,” Thorin pointed out quietly. “Let me help you.”

Bilba considered angrily rebuffing him, but he had a point. Grumbling, she gestured for him to go ahead, and noticed two things, both of which bothered her, though not as much as they should have. First was that Thorin’s hands were untied again (the nerve of him!) and the second was that Dwalin’s bonds were secured with an unfamiliar knot.


	5. Fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dwalin makes an unforgivable pun.

Darkness filled the cave like thick soup, shade creeping farther along the eastern wall until, at last, there was no light left. The halfling hadn't lit a fire. Why not, Dwalin couldn't have rightly said. It wasn't as though the patrols didn't know she was here. Thorin sent most of them away. Would have sent _him_ away, too, if Bilba hadn't been standing right there.

The wait for Bilba to fall asleep was interminable. She had a little nest (that couldn't be at all comfortable) by the cave entrance, where she could supposedly hear them if they tried to leave. When at long last, her snores drifted into the air, Dwalin turned to Thorin with a frown, sitting up and pulling easily out of his bonds. Slip-knots were so useful. Also useful was the fact that Bilba didn't know the first thing about knots of any sort.

 _Explain?_ he signed, lifting one shaggy eyebrow. Thorin was avoiding his gaze, staring out toward the sleeping halfling instead. After a long moment, he shook his head. As though that explained anything at all. Dwalin's frown deepened.

 _She hit hard._  The warrior made a show of scrubbing the blood from the crown of his head. _She no good jailer._ The same sentence might have meant that Bilba was an unlikable person in the role of jailer, but combined with Dwalin's amused expression, the signs clearly indicated that the halfling was no good at _being_ a jailer. A smile flitted across Thorin's face. Whether he wanted to admit it or not, he agreed.

 _Say she no hurt you._ Dwalin was still determined to get information, even if it killed him. As much as he liked Bilba, if the halfling had actually kidnapped Thorin against his will, then there was some fixing that needed done around here.

Thorin snorted. _You fake. I fake._ He didn't meet Dwalin's gaze though, and the warrior had known his king too well for too long not to see a falsehood when it was fed him on a silver platter. He tried hard not to laugh.

 _Big strong king fall for hobbit._  The double meaning of "fall" didn't escape either of them. Thorin actually blushed, his complexion turning healthily pink under his scruffy black beard.

"Shut up," he hissed, not seeming to acknowledge or care that neither of them had said a word up to that point.

One can only imagine Bilba's outrage and resignation when, upon waking the next morning, she found Dwalin and Thorin sitting around a campfire, making breakfast for the three of them.

 


	6. Breakfast

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. Sorry for the delay, guys. Things have been kinda crazy. Alright, that's really no excuse, but I'm back on track now. There's one more section left to this story, I think, and don't worry--most everyone will come out of it in one piece. :)

"I thought I told you two to stay tied up!" Bilba stomped out of the cave, fighting off the effects of heavy sleep rudely interrupted. Dwalin and Thorin exchanged glances, and it looked as though they'd swapped a novel in a single look. While the king looked slightly uncomfortable, his companion seemed rather amused. The sight of Dwalin purposefully _not_ smiling just made her angry. But what didn't, nowadays? She was tired and hungry all the time, sick of sleeping on rock, and restless from staying in one place for too long. She was ready to leave, to get moving--she'd gotten used to being on the road, and this change hadn't endeared her to a settled life.

_Note to self: Staying in one place attracts jerks._

"You'll pardon me for not groveling at your hairy feet, your highness." Dwalin's words might have been snide if he weren't trying so very hard not to laugh. "You'll appreciate a hot meal as much as we will."

If there was a retort for that, she lost it, because at that moment a breeze wafted the smell of cooking meat into her face, and her stomach tightened longingly. Grumbling, she took a seat with them. "You had better have butter and toast in that bag."

It had been a purely ridiculous demand, born of childish petulance, but the warrior turned his head slightly, put his fingers to his mouth, and gave a piercing whistle. Bilba pounced on him, cutting the signal off sharply and giving him a solid blow to the head in the process.

"Are you _insane?_ " she hissed, heart pounding. "Do you want the entire Mountain to know where we are?"

Dwalin didn't respond, but raised his eyebrows at her until the things were in danger of blending with the dwarf's head-tattoos. She scowled at him.

"I know you're planning something, you sneaky…" Whatever he was, the word wasn't coming to mind. She scowled at him and massaged her hand, which hurt terribly. His head was _hard,_ dangit.

"I'm feeding you," grunted the dwarf, and passed her a heavy wooden bowl, which was promptly filled with sausage and eggs and fried tomatoes. Where they'd gotten this stuff was anyone's guess, but Bilba hadn't been altogether eager to sort through Dwalin's bag. She was still half convinced he kept bear traps in it.

"You called?" Bilba leapt to her feet and nearly swallowed her tongue in her attempt not to scream. Her bowl, and her breakfast, fell into the fire, scattering embers across the rocks. Trotting down into the dell was a very familiar dwarf with a ridiculous, floppy-eared hat and a jovial grin. "Bilba, my pretty lass, it's good to see ya!"

"Bofur." The halfling felt like crawling under the hearest rock and just crying for a while. It was obvious to her now that her cover had been completely blown. Bofur was carrying a sack in one hand, and she was willing to bet that there was more food in it. Bilba shot a look at Thorin, who looked completely unsurprised, but was watching her almost… dare she say _anxiously?_  An idea flashed through her brain, and really, by this point, she ought to have known better than to act on these, especially when she was emotional and tired and cranky.

She moved to meet Bofur, nearly sprinting, and hit him with arms flung wide. Bofur caught her easily, dropping his sack and spinning her around in a circle. He'd always been good at taking things in stride. The cheerful dwarf seemed to temporarily lose that talent when Bilba kissed him. Hard.

When she looked at Thorin again, he was pale-faced and angry. Maybe it was foolish, but she felt triumphant for having finally gotten to him. She didn't feel quite so pleased about it when Thorin's fist connected with Bofur's face a minute later.


	7. Broken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Funny how so much can result from one dwarf getting punched in the face. Not that this was Bofur's plan.

"Thorin!" Alright, perhaps she didn't exactly have the right to sound so mortified, but that was just the way things were just then. Among other things, she was terrified that he'd killed Bofur, because the miner wasn't hadn't moved from where he'd fallen and there was blood leaking from his nose.

"No one kisses my One except for me," he snarled, and Bilba actually took a step back. He hadn't spoken angrily with her since the night she'd knocked him out, and now she remembered how much bigger and stronger he was than she. Almost twice her size, and currently _very_ angry.

Even as Bilba moved away from him, his hands closed around her shoulders and pulled her forward. Before she'd had time to think about what she was doing, the hobbit was fighting madly. Memories seared through her brain--Thorin, accusing her of being a traitor. Thorin, dangling her off the wall. Thorin, shaking with rage, his voice hissing through his teeth like the wind over the heath.

_"May I never see your face again. May our paths never cross. Get out. Your contract is void."_

At least half of her mind was utterly convinced that Thorin was going to kill her. It took several moments of frantic struggling for her to realize that his hands were not hurting her, that his arms held her in such a way that she could still breathe. Most importantly, as she stopped fighting, she felt Thorin shaking slightly against her.

"Th...Thorin?" Everything she had thought was certain was thrown into chaos. Was Thorin angry with her, or wasn't he? Was she a traitor and a kidnapper or wasn't she? Was Bofur dead or wasn't he? Was the sky blue and grass green or wasn't it?!?

Thorin's arms tightened slightly around her, and she realized that he was holding her so he could glare at Dwalin over her shoulder, and now that she thought about it, she could hear a curious snorting sound over the crackle of the fire.

"What? What are you-?" But before she'd even finished her question, Dwalin apparently gave in and let out a roar of laughter. Thorin set the halfling down, and she saw that he was scowling darkly at his companion.

"The look," gasped Dwalin, wiping tears of mirth from his dark eyes, "on yer face. I think the both of ye need a drink."

Bilba felt him moving before she saw it, and she grabbed Thorin's arm before he could cover the distance between himself and his guard captain. Personally, she was still scrambling to make sense of what was going on.

"How many people know where we are?" If all Dwalin had to do was whistle for Bofur and he came, then clearly, more people knew than she'd hoped. As she thought about _that,_ she realized that Bofur was still lying on the ground, and still not moving. She starting to turn toward him, and Thorin stopped her, his fingers digging almost painfully into her shoulder.

"Don't even think about it. I'm not in the mood for your games, Bilba."

"Not in the mood?" The hobbit's temper flared again and she turned on him with a scowl. "It was years, _YEARS,_ Mr. King-Under-a-Rock, and you decided to show up out of the blue and pick a fight with me! And you say _you're_ not in the mood?"

"I couldn't find you-"

"You _banished_ me! Did you think I would hang around and wait for you to kindly take it all back? 'Oh, I'm sorry about the whole trying to kill you thing, would you like to come back and marry me, maybe have a few dwarf babies while we're at it?' The _nerve_ of some people!" Bilba could see that she'd touched a nerve, but she didn't care. She was venting years' worth of frustration on him, and there was nothing he could do to stop her. "What were you even thinking, anyway? Stepping into my camp out of the black in the middle of the night? Because _every_ lone traveler just LOVES company when they're not expecting any. I didn't even have enough food for two!"

Thorin's hands on her shoulders squeezed like vices until her eyes watered with pain, but she didn't back down. Jutting her chin stubbornly, she glared up at him, determined not to give in this time.

"In case anyone's curious, this breakfast is very good. Might not be any left when I'm done, though." Dwalin's announcement didn't phase Thorin in the least, but Bilba's stomach gave a nasty twist at the thought of being empty any longer. She tried to shrug off Thorin's hands, and found, to her surprise, that he'd let her go. The surprise of that simple fact brought her to a standstill, and the hobbit looked up into the dwarf king's face, scanning for what might have made him change his mind. What she saw made her feel a bit guilty.

"Thorin? Don't look at me like that-" Just then, Bofur groaned, and Bilba whirled away to go check on him. The hatted dwarf blinked blearily up at her, brown eyes dazed and unfocused.

"Wha' happened?" mumbled Bofur, reaching up gingerly to dab at his nose. From the way he winced, Bilba thought it might be broken.

"Thorin socked you on the nose for getting a kiss. Doesn't seem fair, does it?" She smiled down at him, still worried about the blood dripping from his nose, which was in turn beginning to swell noticeably. Bofur had a very different reaction. He scooted cautiously away from her, still blinking hard, trying to make his eyes focus.

"Bilba. I thought... where's Thorin? I didn't... I mean...."

His reaction confused her on multiple levels. Since when had Bofur ever been scared of her? Just a couple minutes ago he'd been delighted to see her.

"Don't worry about Thorin. He's just over...." She glanced over her shoulder, but Thorin wasn't 'just over' anywhere. Bilba straightened, scanning the dell. Dwalin sat by the fire, contentedly scarfing their entire breakfast by himself, and she knelt beside Bofur, and the three of them were alone in the little dell beside the cave.

"Where'd he go?"

Dwalin glanced up at her, and jerked his head toward the looming peak of the Lonely Mountain, some fifteen or so miles away.

"Back to Erebor te lick his wounds, I expect. Ye didn' pull any punches."

The very fact that Dwalin looked impressed told Bilba that she had probably gone too far. The hulking dwarf didn't impress easily, and the only things that _did_ impress him were persistence and ruthlessness.

"And... how many people know he was here with me?" A sense of dread settled in her stomach, and only half of it had anything to do with what other people would think when they learned she'd kidnapped the King Under the Mountain.

"The Mountain Guard. The Company. Dis."

Bilba felt a chill race down her spine. She had heard tales of Thorin's sister, and knew that besides being a Princess, she was just as stubborn and determined as her brother, if not more so. The idea of meeting her was a scary one. The idea of meeting her after having just broken her brother's heart was downright terrifying.

"Well... if you don't mind terribly, I'll just pack my things and be on my way...."

"Damn straight you will." Dwalin stood, and she noticed with a feeling of despair that all the food was gone. "Get your pony. We're going to Erebor."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And... it looks like we need another chapter. I'm trying to wrap this up, really I am.


	8. A Study of Drink

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the author partakes of terrible wordplay, and the story comes to a conclusion.

"You all KNEW?!" Bilba wasn't sure whether to cry or punch the grin off of Kili's face. She and Dwalin had barely finished loading up her little cart and hitching up Bofur (the four-footed one, not the one with the broken nose) when Kili, Ori, Bifur and Bombur had come over the hill to join them. Ori had looked terribly worried as he went to check on Bofur, twisting his knitted arm-warmers around and around on his wrists, while Bifur seemed completely unconcerned and Bombur just laughed.

"It's not the first time his nose has been broken for pulling a stunt like that," commented the fat dwarf with a knowing chuckle, and Bilba turned to scowl at him.

"Why didn't you stop him?"

"Who, Bofur? Lass, he flirted with you for _months,_ and you never so much as batted an eyelash in his direction. I thought you were immune." Bombur shrugged, while Bifur grunted his agreement, dark eyes sparkling with amusement. Bilba gaped. Months? Bofur? She turned a little to look at the dwarf, who was still bleeding, and looked rather dazed as he sat on the back of her little cart and pinched his nose gingerly to stop the blood flow.

"No, he- I- you-" She spluttered as Bifur and Bombur laughed, and Kili giggled up his sleeve. "I- Thorin! I meant Thorin!" When she finally managed to shout her actual meaning, Bombur lifted a genial eyebrow at her.

"Us? Stop Thorin? An orc pack couldn't stop Thorin. What makes you think we would be able to?"

"Stop yer jabberin'," growled Dwalin, who still seemed almost to be smiling. "We have a long way te go before we catch up with 'im." He turned and said something in Khuzdul to Bifur, who nodded and answered in the same gruff tongue. Bilba didn't understand a word, but that was how they liked it, and Dwalin lost no time in setting her on the driving board of her own cart and hooking his fingers through Bofur's bridle (not the one with the broken nose--if he had a bridle, Dwalin certainly wouldn't be the one grabbing it). They set out together, plodding along at a fair pace over the little hills and around little dells like the one that Bilba had hidden her "prisoners" in. She was rather disgruntled (and quite a bit more unsettled than she wanted to admit) about the fact that apparently everyone had known perfectly well that she was holding Thorin captive, and none of them had thought their king needed rescuing. She was even more disturbed to learn that there were, in fact, rumors among the Guard that this was a sort of courtship ritual, and that they expected Thorin to return to the Mountain with his new bride.

"I have at least ten bets laid against my saying you won't marry Thorin until you're both back in the Mountain," said Kili happily, grinning. "Though I might have lost to the ones saying you were engaged. You're not, are you?"

Bilba was positive her face was permanently stained the shade of a brick. "Kili, your uncle tried to kill me and had me banished--aren't any of you _surprised_  that I'm here at all?"

The young dwarf traded a glance with Ori, who smiled nervously and answered her question with another question--this was a habit she had never been able to decide whether she liked or not.

"Did you really think we just let you leave the Mountain without anyone to keep an eye on you?"

If Bilba hadn't been riding on her cart, she might have tripped over her own feet in surprise. "What's that supposed to mean?" There was a mixture of insult and anxiety in her tone, and Ori seemed to hear it. He was better at detecting and identifying such things than most of the others.

"Well, we were worried about you. So... we made sure you were followed. We never thought that you would stay away for so long, though."

Kili nodded his agreement, his expression becoming briefly sober. "Yeah, we thought you just needed a bit of space, and that you'd be back in a few days." A grin split across his face and he nudged the halfling with a chuckle. "You didn't think all your roaming was uneventful because _you_ planned it, did you?"

"But... I didn't... who was following me?" Bilba probably shouldn't have been surprised when Kili jerked his thumb over his shoulder at Bifur, who smiled and waved sheepishly.

The rest of their journey was comprised mostly of Kili relating sections of Bifur's reports to them, endlessly nudging Bilba over the places she'd gone and the people she'd met. Traveling about and becoming a healer was apparently very amusing for the young dwarf, and he didn't get tired of it until nearly noontime, when Dwalin hit him over the head and told him that if he didn't shut up, he would let Bilba have at him with a stick of firewood. They arrived at the Mountain by nightfall, by which point Bilba would have happily fallen into a bed and not moved for a week, but there was someone waiting for them at the gate.

At first, she thought it was Thorin. Then she realized that the dwarf she was looking at was wearing a skirt. Her toes started to feel cold, a sure sign that things were about to get dangerous. Her toes had always got cold around her cousin Lobelia, too, though for entirely different reasons, she was sure. She had never been in danger of being throttled by Lobelia.

"Would one of you," said the female dwarf, and her voice was smoother and a little lighter than Thorin's, "like to explain to me why my brother is locked in his study with a bottle of wine?"

"Because he went out to court trouble and got it full in the face." Dwalin folded his arms, looking unintimidated. The rest of their group, however, seemed to make up for the bald warrior's lack by showing it in spades. Ori was hiding behind Bofur, who seemed to be intently studying his toes. Bifur and Bombur looked nearly shamefaced, while Kili grinned nervously.

"You could say he got it over the head," he said with a halfhearted laugh, which trailed off weakly when Dis turned her unforgiving gaze on him

"And who is this?" Without shifting her eyes from her younger son, she pointed at Bilba, who wished she still had a pony to hide behind.

"Bilba Baggins. Amad, she's the one I told you about, who saved us all those times."

"Mm-hm." Dis' tone was skeptical at best, and Dwalin stepped forward.

"Regardless, Princess, she's Thorin's One, and I intend to see they're in the same room long enough to beat confessions out of each other, even if it kills both of them."

* * *

Thorin looked up when the lock on his study door clicked open. He frowned at his sister, who didn't look apologetic in the least as she tucked a key into her pocket.

"Where did you get that?" he asked bluntly, pointing at her pocket with the same hand that held a stone goblet, which appeared to be empty at the moment. The goblet was clearly an heirloom of sorts, its glossy black bowl inlaid with silver and carved with the crest of Durin's house. The fact that he was drinking out of it ought to have said something about his state of mind, but Thorin didn't particularly care what others might or might not read into his actions, and poured more wine into his cup.

"I made a copy in the first week I was here." Dis' answer neither comforted nor amused him, and he scowled.

"You have no right. This is my study, and there's a lock on the door for a reason."

Dis rolled her eyes. "Right. It has a lock on the door so you can come in here and drink yourself stupid while my son runs your kingdom for you. I think not."

It was times like these that Thorin wished he had been an only child. Having two siblings, he'd always been counted as blessed. He suspected, somewhat sourly, that if his brother-in-law hadn't been killed, then his sister would have had three children as well. Two was more than enough.

"Your sons will inherit. Isn't that enough for you? Leave me in peace, Sister. I have nothing to say to you." The wine disappeared down his throat quickly enough that he didn't have to taste it, and the dwarf sighed heavily. He hadn't expected his reunion with Bilba to go _well,_ by any stretch of the imagination, but he had expected that she would still....

"Oh, quit feeling sorry for yourself, Brother. I brought you a visitor." Dis took a step back, and there she was. Thorin felt his stomach turn inside-out as he gazed on a rather sheepish-looking hobbit.

"Haven't you done enough damage already?" Thorin's harsh question made Bilba twitch, and he felt bad for snapping so at her, even though he felt she deserved it. She shuffled into the study, hands clasped nervously before her, and Dis closed the door in her wake, locking it again behind her. Not that locking it did much, since Thorin still had his copy of the key. But now that they were alone together, he couldn't stop the veritable fountain of hurt that welled up in his chest.

"Why are you here, Bilba?"

The hobbit shifted nervously, inspecting her toes. "I... wanted to apologize." Now if that wasn't the biggest laugh of the century. Thorin filled his goblet again, scowling.

"For which part? Abducting me, knocking me out, or stabbing me in the back?" He might have wondered about the confused look on Bilba's face if he hadn't been so occupied with downing another large gulp of alcohol.

"What are you talking about? I didn't stab anyone."

"If you wanted to be with that idiot and his hat, you could have said so. I thought you and I..." He trailed off, not wanting to think about what might have been. It hurt. But so did the bewildered look she had on him now. As though _she_ were the one hurt, and _he_  was kissing someone else.

"You think... I'm in love with Bofur?"

"As if that wasn't obvious from the way you greeted him today." Thorin couldn't help the snide tone, but admitted to himself that Bilba didn't look like a hobbit who'd been caught doing something she was ashamed of. If anything, she looked relieved.

"I'm not."

"You're not what?" Perhaps he was just being belligerent (it wouldn't be the first time he'd been called that when he was drunk) but he wanted her to actually say what it was she was thinking, instead of expecting him to magically fill in the blanks.

"I'm not in love with Bofur."

The statement seemed so incongruous, so contrary, that Thorin spent several long moments staring at the halfling in silence while he processed her claim. At length, he shook his head slightly.

"You're... not."

"No." Bilba was even smiling slightly now, and took a step toward his desk, behind which he was still sitting, a bottle in one hand and a goblet in the other. "I never was."

Thorin looked at her, then he looked at the wine bottle in his hand, trying to remember how many drinks he'd already had. No more than four or five, he thought. Then he looked at Bilba again, and tried to determine if she was lying. He remembered after a moment that she was a terrible liar.

"Are you in love with me?" It was an uncouth question at best, but he was willing to bet the answer would solve a great many of his current problems. The halfling's face turned bright red and she avoided looking at him as she answered.

"That's a stupid question. Why do you even have to ask?"

"Because I want to hear you say it," he growled stubbornly. Bilba sighed.

"Yes, I love you, Thorin. Even if you are a half-drunk idiot." She crossed the rest of the space between her and the desk, and leaned across it to take the bottle away from him. Thorin didn't resist.

She loved him.

She didn't love Bofur.

"Then why did you kiss him?"

"Because you made me mad and I... well, I wanted to make you mad, too."

A brief, heavy pause. "Why didn't you kiss _me?_ "

She fixed him with such a strange look that he briefly wondered if Kili had braided flowers into his hair again.   
"You're Thorin bloody Oakenshield. I can't just kiss you!"

Thorin stood, and was only too happy to prove her positively, emphatically wrong.

**Author's Note:**

> These will be shorty-short chapters. I will add as I write more. Don't expect regular updates.


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